


Bukidnon

by FishUnknown



Category: Trese (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Romance, Bukidnon Massacre, Century Old Daddies, Death, Drama, Flashbacks, Jumping From Time to Time, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Post-Book 5 and Book 6, Trese - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishUnknown/pseuds/FishUnknown
Summary: "I never believed that this place was safe anyway, but it is the home of my people, it is the home of my memories. And whose job is it to protect it?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is in no way affiliated to the Trese series. While there are elements, events, and facts taken from the comic, the whole story is not canon and is 100% fan made.
> 
> Also, all events, places, and characters in the story are fiction. Similarities in real life are coincidence.
> 
> Trese and all of its characters belong to Budjette Tan and Kajo Baldisimo. All of the original characters belong to me.

Armanaz groaned as he slowly stretched his left leg on his nest. His leg had been aching ever since the stampede in Calamba, Laguna, which the tikbalangs had fittingly called "The Governor's Stampede", "The Judges' Demise" or simply "The Calamba Stampede." The vacation they had after the stampede did not help him either. He was afraid that his hooves had grown immune to the healers' herbs because the cramp wasn't getting any better. In fact, it was starting to become intolerable.

Armanaz laid his leg on top of five pillows. It took him a while to get the pleasing angle, where the pain was there but not mane-pulling unbearable. He laid his back and head on his nest and let out a huff of relief. The pain had finally lessened.

The time was four in the morning, the time for his rest. Makati was quiet from where his den was. He let his eyes close as the analog clock on top of his nest ticked him a lullaby. But his sleep was soon disrupted by a knock on his wooden doors.

"Come in!" he ordered. As degrading and vulnerable his position was, Armanaz could not bear standing up.

The doors creaked open and in came a feeble tikbalang with brown fur, no mane, and a bahag too big for him. His name was Pico, and unlike most subjects, he was confident enough not to shiver nor stammer in front of the Great Stallion and actually remembered how to bow. (He must have been trained well, Armanaz thought.)

"Great Stallion," Pico said. "You have a visitor by the name of Relika."

"Tell her kindly to wait until seven in the morning, Pico. This is a time for rest."

"But sir, it is urgent news. Relika has sense danger coming upon the tribe and something about-

Pico hesitated.

"Well? What is it?" Armanaz impatiently asked.

-a magician in Bukidnon." Pico finished.

Armanaz immediately pulled himself upward. It had been a while since he had last heard a reference about Bukidnon. In reality, he wanted to erase the whole incident from his memory, bury it underground, and never hear it again.

"What does a magician has to do with our tribe?" Armanaz asked.

"Señior, I cannot provide you all of the information," Pico replied. "But Relika can. If you want, you can talk to her right now. But I understand if you wish to delay such info."

Armanaz swore he caught a glimpse of the small tikbalang's smug look on his face. He groaned in defeat as he slowly got out of his nest. The pain in his leg returned, but his mind was more focused on what Relika had to say.

"You," he pointed at Pico. "Wait for me outside and don't let anyone come in."

"Understood," Pico politely replied. He then left, closing the doors behind him.

Armanaz opened his chest and pulled out his bahag and vest. He took his shoulder piece from the hanging armor stand and placed it in him. He breathed in, slowly, heavily. The pain was coming back to his leg, but his mind was focused on the matter at hand. He exhaled, walked forward, and opened his door. Pico was leaning against the wall. When he immediately saw Armanaz, he gave a respectful bow.

"How long has she been waiting?" Armanaz asked.

"Maybe five or ten minutes," Pico replied.

Armanaz huffed.

They walked down the dark hallway. All of the doors were closed and there was only the sound of Armanaz and Pico's hooves walking on gray tiles. Pico was ahead and he would occasionally look behind him and see Armanaz shuffling to keep up.

"Señior," he meekly said. "Do you need my help?"

But Armanaz raised his hand. "I am fine, Pico."

They reached the 10 feet tall elevator. Pico pressed the descend button and in an instant, the elevator opened. They stepped in. Pico pressed the button for the 97th floor and the elevator door closed. In a blink, they were already stepping out of the elevator and into a single hallway with only a double door to see. Pico pushed them opened.

Inside was an indoor garden. But unlike most of the gardens in the building, which was more on the side of trees and grass, this was more in themed with flowers. The instant Armanaz stepped in, he felt his body relaxing. There was the strong smell of jasmine and lavender that he loved greeting him and at the center of the garden stood a tall cherry blossom tree. Eight rows of flower boxes surrounded the tree and a path of stone led to a large bench. There sat Relika.

The first time Armanaz met her, he had mistaken her for a lost tourist. (It was probably because she wore a blue summer dress, complete with short leggings and flip flops, at night, during the rainy season.) She visited the building on the third night the tikbalang tribe had settled in Manila. She came to welcome the tribe in the city.

She was also one of the diwatas who could see what the deceased could see, even if they're oceans apart. Because of this, she had become the watchful eye of the tikbalang tribe. Whenever something was going on, from Luzon to Mindanao, and it had the tribe's name written on it, she would see it and reports it immediately.

Relika got up from the bench and politely bowed in front of Armanaz.

"Good morning, Great Stallion," she greeted. "I'm sorry to disturb you at this time, but it's  _very_ important."

"So as Pico told me," Armanaz replied. "What do you have to share?"

Relika's eyes rolled into the back of her head. She titled her head back and opened her mouth. There was a low humming coming from her, then followed a long ringing sound. It was something like an old telephone, waiting for the other side to respond.

Then there were murmurs, as though there were many people on the line. It was followed by the sound of fire, crackling. Then there were gunshots. Shot after shot, the sound grew louder, as though the shooter was slowly approaching. Then there was a sound of screaming. Then it all stopped.

Relika returned to her normal self. Her eyes were back and her head was straight again. She closed her mouth, shook, one... two... three... and said:

"They hung up."

Relika could not read Armanaz's face. It wasn't afraid nor confused. Just placid.

"Who did?" he asked.

"It’s the spirits. They must be scared."

"Relika! What is going on?"

"Great Stallion, the spirits from Bukidnon are seeing a man, wielding strong weaponry and magic. They're causing destruction on what was once your kingdom. He is destroying everything. The memorabilia, the tombs, the statues, the forest, everything is in ruin.

"And from what the spirits heard, he wants you. All of you. He wants all of the tikbalangs dead."

"Dead." Armanaz echoed.

"Your head on a stake above all to be exact," Relika added.

"That's impossible. All of the men who terrorized our home were persecuted. No other humans know about this place."

"Yes, but what if... someone survived?"

Armanaz could feel not only his leg, but his whole body weakening. He wished this was not real, and that it was a misinformation. But he heard it himself. It was real, it sounded real. He looked at Pico and saw the young colt shivering. He looked at Relika and the diwata just kept her gaze down and hands clasped in front of her. He knew that Relika would never lie to them and that everything she saw was the truth.

"... Do you know more about this magician?" Armanaz asked.

Relika shook her head. "No. In fact, the spirits were surprised when they saw him. It's like, he popped out of nowhere."

Armanaz huffed. He looked at the tree, expecting an answer appearing on its branch. Of course, a miracle was very unlikely. All he could think was the safety of his tribe, his people.

His family.

"Pico," he said. "I want you to bring Elder Narra and General Kagirim now."

Armanaz paused. He tried to shake the image of trees toppling, crying, gunshots echoing through his mind as the bullet went straight into-

-"I also want you to bring Maliksi and Iglap. Whatever happens, they must be aware of it.

"Relika, I want you to tell this to all four of them. None of this must go out to other tikbalangs. Not yet, at least. If anyone finds out about this, there will be more problems than we ask for."

"Wait! Where are you going?" Relika asked.

"I... need to see someone. We need all the help that we could get. Right now, we are unsure of what we are facing, so it's best to have at least an ally.

"Do what I said Pico and Relika. I must go."

Pico bowed politely. Relika just nodded her head.

"Good," Armanaz said. "I put my trust in both of you."

Armanaz turned around. The scent of lavender was telling him to relax, that everything will be alright, that all of this was just a bad dream. He walked out of the garden, through the hallway, and stood right in front of the elevator. He pressed the elevator button going down. The door opened and he went in.

The scent of lavender was gone as soon as the door closed and, immediately, he realized that this was not a dream.


	2. Chapter 2

Running was considerably hard right now for Armanaz. Half the time, he was awkwardly wobbling, so much so that he would stop to hide in an alleyway so he could massage his leg. Luckily, Jingco Lumber wasn't that far from the tower. There were a few turns and highways, but he had learned a shortcut, thus giving him a four minute travel. When he reached the hardware and lumber, he was already tucking his hair back and fixing his stole.

He looked at the building's glass. He had rarely seen himself in human form and only now had he noticed how old he looked. There were more wrinkles than there were before and his long hair had almost lost its luster. But that was not where his focus was. He looked at his fingers, which were touching the glass. He was shaky; he was nervous.

"You can do this," he mumbled to himself. "He is probably still asleep. No big deal. Everything will be fine."

Armanaz checked his watch. The time was quarter to five. Obviously, he knew that the hardware was still close. He looked around, seeing if there was any passerby. When he felt that the cost was clear, he sneaked behind a small opening between the hardware's garages.

This was the secret passage into the yard. He made a sharp turn to his right and was faced with a large gate.

The gate was a trap.

Some had tried climbing it, but when they reached the top, they would find an invisible wall blocking them. They won't see it, yet they couldn't do anything to get over it nor penetrate it. There were a couple of daring individuals who tried sawing the gates. In return, fire ants would sip out and bite their legs and genitals.

Armanaz knew the trick. He shuffled to an edge where a tree was planted. Others had tried climbing over it, but they were met with an invisible wall and fire ants. The real answer was on the trunk. There was no need of magic. All that Armanaz had to do was press a hidden button. Instantly, the trunk crumbled and a tiny entrance was made. He ducked his head and went inside it. He walked through a dark hole. He could feel the vines and moss brushing through his shirt and slacks. He let out a sigh of relief when the sole of his shoes stepped on grass. He was in the higantes' yard.

The tribe was very quiet during those times, but Armanaz felt as though there was something wrong. It was too quiet. He got around the trees and found the very center of their camp. Inside the forest were homes carved out of giant tree trunks and framed with stone. At the center was a pillar made from smooth stone. This was the residential area.

Armanaz knew exactly where to go. He had been coming back to this place, over and over again. He reverted back to his tikbalang form and walked onward. He passed the pillar and the houses, all of which were closed and dark. He took note of the weird feeling, yet he continued walking.

He stopped in front of a large tree with a doorway made out of stone with gold and precious gems carved into it. He glanced at the stains windows and found that the inside was dark. He went straight for the door and turned the knob. Although it may appear to others as breaking and entering, to Armanaz it was normal for him to visit the datu of the higantes at random time and welcoming himself in his home.

Gantes did not mind that at all.

Armanaz's breath hitched when the hinges gave a soft squeak. He expected at least one or two of Gantes' boys to come and interrogate who was breaking and entering their leader's home.

No one came.

Armanaz pushed the doors open, expecting Gantes himself to come up and see who it was.

Still no one came.

"Gantes!" Armanaz shouted.

No response.

The small tree trunk exterior was nothing compared to the inside. The ceiling was ten feet higher than Armanaz and the lobby was at least as large as three basketball courts. The walls were made out of the tree barks and the floor was from stone tiles. Four large wooden sofas were at the center of the room, with a table between them. There were either potted plants or hanging ones on each corner. Above the sofas was a chandelier made out of glass shaped as roses.

Armanaz sat on one of the sofas. His leg had finally given up and was aching badly. He let out a loud hiss when he stretched it forward. At the corner of his eye, he noticed a shadow moving down the hallway at the left. Armanaz got up and followed it.

 

Placido gulped when he heard the front door opening. He knew immediately who it was. He knew he'll find out.

"Gantes!" Placido bit his tongue, suppressing a shout. He peaked through the wall and saw the Great Stallion limping in. He watched the tikbalang wobble into the living room. Poor Old Man Armanaz, he thought to himself, he had been limping since vacation.

He gasped when Armanaz cracked his head towards his direction. He stumbled backwards before jogging in the opposite direction. He did not stop to check whether he was being chased or not.

He was about to turn right when-  **bam!**  Placido yelped as he was lunged forward head first and hit into something hard and furry. Placido pulled away and was about to run away with the little time he had, but a hand grabbed his vest before he could even lift his foot up.

 

Armanaz eyed the higante in front of him. Truth be told, he wasn't sure whether to consider him as a higante in the first place. He was three feet shorter than him and barely had any mass in his body. He was afraid that if he wasn't any more careful, he would have broken the kid's bones.

"Placido, where is your uncle?" Armanaz asked.

Placido pulled back the strands of curly black hair that was covering his face and gave a sarcastic wave and smile. Armanaz swore that he would have wiped the grin off of the higante's face if only he was not related to Gantes.

"I don't know, Señior," Placido replied. "He was already gone when I woke up."

"Then where is your father?"

Armanaz noticed Placido's breath hitching.

"Father... aba..." Placido stammered. "He... uh... went somewhere. I wasn't able to catch him."

"Placido, it's clear that you know something."

"I don't!" Placida angrily answered, his grin disappeared. "Aba told me that he and tito Gantes will be out for a while."

“Where?"

"I don't know!"

Armanaz placed Placido back on the ground. Immediately, the higante fixed himself, combing out imperfections from his hair and dusting his vest. He then looked straight at Armanaz, stomped his foot and ranted:

"If you think I care about where your boyfriend is, I don't! But I need to tell you that he'd been acting strange lately."

Placido's tone had calmed down as he continued.

"He had been receiving weird letters since last week. Left and right, it seemed as though they were coming in nonstop. He'd been anxious for these past few days that I'm surprised that you had not noticed."

"I had been busy," Armanaz answered.

Placido smirked. "Couldn't be blamed. With all that floodwater, I knew tikbalangs like you would drown. Is it right that tikbalangs hate water? No wonder you smell..."

Armanaz tried to keep his hands from forming a fist and his hooves from kicking the higante's shin. "Placido, the letters."

"Oh yeah, I knew you'd be concerned about that.

"I wasn't able to read at least one of them."

Armanaz huffed.

"Ah, ah, ah! I'm not finish," Placido added. "I was able to see a bit of the envelope. I think I was able to see the name 'Hasmine' on it."

"...Hasmine?" Armanaz echoed.

Placido nodded. "H-A-S-M-I-N-E."

Suddenly, Armanaz grabbed Placido's shoulder. "I need to know where those letters are," Armanaz said.

Fear returned to Placido, mostly because Armanaz's grip was crippling him slowly, as though each passing second, the fingers were plunging deeper into his skin.

"In his bedroom!" Placido blurted. "That's where I saw tito keeping them."

And in a blink, Placido was on the floor, confused, shocked, and shoulders aching. He felt a slight shaking of the floor.

"Shit," he mumbled. "Aba and tito will kill me."

 

It was a brute's move, but Armanaz could not help but shatter Gantes' bedroom doorknob. He remembered back when the only doors were privacy curtains. Of course, that did not last.

The reasons were a bit obvious.

Armanaz swung the door open. He was greeted by the familiar sight of a round table made out of smooth stone with a pair of chairs on each side. At the center of the table was a bottle of beer with its label peeled off, wrapped with colored paper, and turned into a vase with a bouquet of roses in it.

He walked past the table. Beyond the right was a doorway. It was the only entrance that still used curtains as cover. Armanaz parted them away. He gasped when he saw that the bedroom was a mess. Pieces of papers, envelopes, and rose petals were scattered across the floor.

"This is unlike Gantes," Armanaz mumbled. He immediately noticed a black notebook lying on the bed. It was the first thing he picked up. He flipped through the pages. The words were written in his native tongue.

"Is this Hasmine's diary? No, this couldn't be her," Armanaz said. "She couldn't have sent this to him. Hasmine is dead!"

He lifted the book to see if there was anything odd, if it was the real thing. A piece of paper fell out of the notebook. Armanaz picked it up and immediately recognized the handwriting. It was Hasmine's. The way the words were written in messy long-hand was too identical.

_Gantes, please come here. I need you NOW._

Armanaz flipped the piece of paper. On the back was the return address.

"Oh no..."

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Maliksi!"

The air went straight into Maliksi's throat as he jolted awake. His head and chest were pumping and he feared that they would burst out of his chest any minute. He wiped the drool off of the side of his lips. But then it struck him. It was not drool.

It was tears.

His eyes had adjusted and he instantly found Iglap sitting next to him, holding a glass of water in one hand. In the other hand was his smartphone, which he used its screen as a flashlight. Maliksi noticed the time; it was a minutes to five.

"Iglap," Maliksi mumbled. "...I was screaming in my sleep again, wasn't I?"

"More like crying," Iglap replied. "Water?"

Maliksi's ears stood up as he took a sip from the cup. His mouth felt dry and the cool water made it easier for him to swallow his spit. He handed the cup back to his brother.

"Were you dreaming about mom again?" Iglap asked.

Maliksi nodded and said, "It was vague, but I could hear her. Dad was in there somewhere, but all I really remembered was running. But I think before that, mom was talking to me? I forgot, okay.

"These dreams are slowly becoming more blurry to be honest. Like, I used to remember everything in them, but now I easily forget what I just dreamed- What were we talking about?"

Maliksi chuckled. Iglap rolled his eyes. He was impressed by how easy for his brother to destroy a moment by just saying one sentence.

"How long have you been in here?" Maliksi asked.

"Not too long," Iglap said with a shrug. "I knew you were dreaming about Bukidnon again. You were screaming 'mommy!' in your sleep."

"Oh god, don't remind me, downer. I already woke up from a bad nightmare that I forgot. Last thing I want to hear is an upcoming tragedy that will be as bad as Bukidnon, or worse!"

Suddenly, the door slammed open and Pico walked in.

"Fellas! There is an upcoming tragedy that will be as bad as Bukidnon, or worse!" Pico shouted.

"I was being hypothetical!" Maliksi blurted.

Pico turned the lights on. The dim walls turned into blinding white, so bright that Maliksi groaned and covered his face with his pillow. The tiled floors were covered with Polaroid pictures and albums. Pico could recognize a few of Maliksi's faces on them, as well as other tikbalangs. But majority of them were pictures of random landscapes.

"Aren't you going to fix these?" Pico asked.

"I will once I sorted them out," Maliksi answered in a muffled tone. "Don't you dare step on any of those!"

Pico skipped over the photos until he was next to Iglap.

"Morning sweet prince," Pico teased.

Maliksi threw his pillow to the side.

"What's the matter Pico?" Iglap asked.

"Relika visited," Pico replied. "She said that something's wrong in Bukidnon. Your father said that you should see Relika herself. She'll make things clearer."

Maliksi felt skeptical; worried, yet skeptical.

"You really think that something's happening in Bukidnon?" Maliksi asked.

"Yes! I heard it myself!" Pico replied. "Some guy was destroying your people's tomb."

"Dad said that no one knew about that place, and the hunters that did were all dead!"

"They're not! Relika said this magician guy knew who you were, he knew that tikbalangs once lived there, he knew your father."

Maliksi did not reply, yet he still felt doubtful. He looked at Iglap and saw that his face was blank. He did not know whether or not his brother believed Pico or thinks that the gelding was bluffing.

"Maybe we should talk to Relika herself for more details," Iglap concluded. "We can't say if this is real or a false alarm."

"I'm telling you, it's real!" Pico said.

"We'll just go, Pico. Are you coming Maliksi?"

Maliksi nodded his head. "I'll join you. I just need to stretch my legs and stuff."

"You sure you're alright Maliksi?" Iglap asked.

"I'm fine," Maliksi replied. "You and Pico go ahead, I'll follow."

Iglap did not need to be told twice. He tapped Pico's shoulder and they left the room. Maliksi watched the door close. The lock's clicking sound gave him a feeling of ease. He was alone again.

 

The night before, Maliksi was on his way home from the Diabolical. It had become a habit, possibly even a ritual, of him to visit Alexandra, even during ordinary days. Of course, he would say he simply wanted to stop by, grab a drink, or maybe chat with the Kambal. But they knew, especially Alexandra, that he visits for a very different reason.

That particular night though, Alexandra was on a case of finding a young man's body after his parents reported him missing and that they kept receiving text messages asking for ransom.

Luckily, Alexandra was able to track the mysterious gang's hideout, which was underneath the squatter's area in Pasay. The boy was taken by a gang of various malignos who had found a business in creating  _alternative medicine_  and beauty products.

And their main ingredient was fresh blood.

Maliksi helped Alexandra free the boy and stop the gang. In the end, he took the boy and Alexandra back to the Diabolical, along with the Kambal.

And in those short alone time he finally had with Alexandra, his alarm rang, reminding him of his new curfew time.

So there he was, riding his bike down the streets.

"I should have went earlier, at least then I would had a chance to talk to Alex more," he mumbled. "Stupid curfew, it's not like I'd done anything wrong."

And then he remembered his past screw ups and shut himself up.

He slowed down when he reached a stoplight. Although the streets were empty, he could not move forward because of the newly implemented CCTVs. One wrong move will alarm the surprisingly strict traffic enforcers.

Of course, Maliksi did not want to go home with a ticket or, worst case scenario, with a cop.

The counter on the stoplight flashed  _60\. 60 second_. Maliksi slouched and let of a soft  _pffft_. If there was one thing he hated the most it was missing the green light.

Maliksi glanced around and noticed something interesting. He could see Jingco Lumber. But what made him more curious was who was standing near it. He recognized Datu Gantes even though he was more of a man than a giant.

"Must be off to the tower himself," Maliksi mumbled. "Might as well let him tag along with me."

Lucky for Maliksi, the lumber was on the right. He turned his motorcycle and drove towards Gantes.

 

Gantes was looking at his phone over and over again, so much so that he was afraid that he'll ruin his flip phone's hinges from opening and closing it. He was so focused on his phone that he jumped the second he heard Maliksi sounding his horn.

"Sorry about that," Maliksi said. "But I thought I'll be a good Samaritan and maybe pick you up and bring you with me to the Tower, free of charge."

But Gantes was not amused one bit. "I'm not going to see your father tonight. In fact, I want you to go home right now."

Only then did Maliksi notice the heavy-looking backpack Gantes had lying on the ground.

"Where are you goin-

Suddenly, Gantes pulled Maliksi to the side of the building and, even with his short stature and flimsy-looking limbs, he was able to pin Maliksi against the wall. Maliksi struggled to free himself, spitting a few grunts and curses, but when he looked at Gantes, he was surprised to see him looking at him with not an angry glare, but a scared and panicked look on his face.

"I'm so sorry Maliksi," Gantes said. “But I can't tell you where I'm going. Listen to me, and when I say listen, I really mean  _listen_. Got it?"

Maliksi nodded.

"Good.

"I need to leave for a day or two, maybe even longer. I don't know. But whatever happens, I don't want anyone from your tribe to know about this, especially your father. Whatever happens, know that I'm doing it to protect your family."

"I don't get any of this."

"Please, just trust me. Don't say a word about this conversation to  _anyone,_  especially to Armanaz. Don't try following me to where I'm going, and don't tell your father that I'm gone. I don't want him finding me."

And slowly, Gantes' grip loosens and he let Maliksi go.

"Promise me that you will be quiet," Gantes said.

"I will! I will." Maliksi reluctantly replied.

"Now go home. We don't want your dad having another mini heart attack."

Maliksi walked out of the dark alley. He felt heavy, anxious. He turned around and saw Gantes walking into the Higante's gate.

"Something's bad," Maliksi whispered to himself. "I want to know, but Gantes will definitely not talk."

Maliksi took his helmet from the handle of his motorcycle. He got on his motorcycle. He was about to drive off when his cellphone fell out of his pocket.

He let out a growl when he picked his phone up. Then it hit him. He looked around to see if Gantes was still around or if one of his boys were watching him. For a safe measure, he moved his bike a few turns away from the lumber.

"This is a dick move," Maliksi mumbled.

He scrolled through his logs until he found the right number. He pressed 'call.' One ring... two rings...

"Please pick up," he said.

Then there was an answer.

"Maliksi?"

Maliksi sighed and answered: "Alexandra... I need to tell you something quick."

 


	4. Chapter 4

_3O years ago..._

 

The sun was shining down on Gantes' face the moment he opened his eyes. He looked up and saw the sunlight refracting between thick leaves. He wiped his face and blink for a couple of times until his vision cleared and he was able to see that the leaves were from trees and that he was in a forest.

It only dawned on him that he was laying on a boat. The feeling of floating came to him as he heard the water brushing against the wooden boat he was on.

"Good morning."

His body was twisted in a very awkward position, where his head and torso were on the floor while his hind and legs were on the seats. Gantes slowly pulled himself up from the splintery deck the moment he heard his name. His eyes had gotten used to his bright surroundings and he finally saw his companion.

Sitting across him was a tikbalang who was the same height as him, if not taller. Her curly black mane was covered with fallen leaves and petals and her baro't saya was drenched in river water.

"Looks like someone had a nice sleep," the tikbalang said.

"Hasmine?" Gantes mumbled. "Where... are we?"

"Still flowing. Home is a mile away."

Gantes fixed his vest and hair. He picked up his fedora and placed it on his head.

"Did you even sleep?" Gantes asked.

"I did, but it was only for about an hour," Hasmine replied. "Don't worry; we tikbalangs only need four hours of sleep anyway."

Gantes looked around and started noticing denser trees surrounding them. The sun barely touched them anymore.

"So," Hasmine continued. "Are you enjoying the trip?"

"I guess," Gantes replied. "I'm not into travelling outside Manila."

"You're not into travelling at all!" Hasmine interrupted.

"Well, I was, until you drag me around the city. How in the world can I say no anyway? You made me do things that I won't consider doing."

Hasmine giggled. "It's my talent."

"To be honest, all traveling is putting a strain on me. I'm surprise that I didn’t black out nor vomited yet."

"You will feel better once we have settled. There will be food and water to drink as well as a nice place to stay. Speaking of which, are you hungry?"

Gantes shook his head, although he could hear his stomach disagreeing.

"You know, I still have some berries left in my sack."

"No! I'm alright Hasmine, but thank you."

A strong scent of flowers overwhelmed Gantes. He turned around and noticed wild flowers blooming near the riverbank.

"Diwatas live here," Hasmine said. "They don't mind if we go by."

They rowed past, both not saying a word. Maybe a minute or later, Gantes broke the silence.

"You know Hasmine," Gantes said. "It only occurred to me: why me?"

Hasmine made an indistinct sound.

"I mean, you had traveled from Mindanao to Luzon, you met different enkantos who were more engaging in adventure than I am, but why do you want me to represent Manila to your leader?"

Hasmine smiled. "I find you friendlier than other enkantos that I had met."

"My father said that my friendliness will kill me."

"I don't think so. It feels so fresh to finally talk to someone who isn't a trickster nor murderer."

The boat suddenly bounced as it went over a stone. Gantes and Hasmine gasped. Water sprayed on their clothes and on the deck. They let out a laugh as their boat fell back in place.

"Just when I thought a siyokoy was playing another prank," Hasmine said.

"Siyokoy? Ha! From where I am, that's a derogative term. We call them 'taga-dagats," Gantes replied.

"You city folks are  _very_  different."

"I guess that's why you need someone from the city to explain our culture to your leader?"

"He only wants the best for his tribe. He doesn't want his people to feel culture shocked. He also fears that chaos is still rampant in the city."

"Tell him that the war has been long over. Manila is getting better. And by the way, your leader, the Great Stallion, will he be okay if you bring someone like me to his tribe?"

"He is very open to visitors as long as they have his interest. You can provide information, so you are welcome to stay. He is very hospitable. Just don't let him get angry. It's never a pretty sight."

The boat came to a sudden stop. Gantes turned around and saw that the river had reached a dead end.

"We're here," Hasmine said. "All we need to do is walk through those trees and we're home."

Gantes grunted. "I thought this boat ride would be the last part of our travel."

"Technically, yes it is. It's the last  _tedious_  part of our travel."

Gantes went out of the boat first. He gave a hand to Hasmine and helped her out. They then took their bags, Hasmine's chest, and the sack, which was once filled to the brim but was now left with only a few grams of berries.

"Come on," Hasmine said. "It's already noon. I told my mother that I will be home at morning."

"Then we should get going," Gantes replied.

The path to the tribe was narrow and was covered by thick leaves. Gantes could hear faint giggling and chirping. The wind blew and he was hit with the scent of wild flowers.

"We're almost there," Hasmine said. "I can see the camps."

They reached the end of the path and found themselves on top of a cliff, overviewing the tikbalang's tribe.

"We're home," Hasmine happily whispered.

She suddenly sprinted pass Gantes and rushed towards the right, hoisting her bag and chest with her.

"Hasmine!" Gantes shouted. "How will I get down?"

"Come on!" Hasmine replied.

Gantes grunted and picked the rest of their stuff. He was not as fast as Hasmine, but he was able to keep up with her on the grassy field. At a corner on the right was a set of large staircases made out of stone. They went down and Gantes thought that Hasmine would suddenly fall over in excitement, or even try to roll down the slope.

They reached the bottom in a second and were greeted by two guards. Both were large tikbalangs wearing bronze shoulder pads and bahags, as well as blinkers and a helmet on their head.

"*Maayong buntag!" Hasmine greeted. "I hope you two still remember me after 3 years."

The guards huffed before moving aside. Hasmine confidently walked in. Gantes was about to follow when the guards suddenly pulled their swords and aimed it towards Gantes.

"Oh! No, no, no," Hasmine said. "He's a visitor that I brought with me. He's harmless."

Harmless, Gantes echoed in his mind.

The guards scoffed yet still lifted their swords. Gantes immediately rushed towards Hasmine.

"Thank you," he said.

Hasmine smiled. "Come on!"

The first thing Gantes noticed was the pavement; smooth, shone like the sun. And yet the second his bare feet stepped on it, the feeling was cold, relaxing. Another thing he noticed was when he looked up. Wooden homes were placed on giant tree tops like soldier watch towers or children's tree fort. Each houses had its own balcony, some even connected their house to another through a bridge or colorful wires with tiny banners or clothes hanging on them.

Then there was the tribe center. It was a cemented large circle with a wide area and was surrounded with stalls and eatery. In the space was where fowls played while their parents work, either in the stalls, at the field, or at military training. A statue of an army of tikbalangs stood at the center, with a fire burning underneath it in a carved fireplace. Gantes stared at the statue, specifically at the largest tikbalang, who proudly stood at the center along with two companions.

"The Battle of Land," Hasmine said. "It was one of the most important part of our tribe's history. It was when the tikbalangs fought against the tribe of aswangs who wanted to take our homeland. War lasted for about a decade."

"Wow..." was the only reply Gantes could give. He then pointed at the statue. "Who is he?"

Hasmine followed his finger and saw that he was pointing at the large tikbalang.

"That's the Great Stallion, Armanaz," Hasmine replied. "He was the one who lead the battle after his father died in the middle of the battlefield."

"You know a lot about your history."

"I'm a historian and geographer. What do you expect?"

Another thing that had caught Gantes attention was the abundance of flowers. Every corner had at least one or two flower box. And the most common type that he had noticed were lavenders.

"Your tribe has quite the interest with flowers," Gantes said.

"Lady Mare loves them," Hasmine replied.

"Lady Mare?"

"The wife of Great Stallion, remember?"

"Yes! I... remember." Truth be told though, Gantes barely remembered the datu's wife, not because Hasmine didn't told stories of her (quite the contrary, she could not stop telling stories about her), but it was because Gantes had a feeling of a distaste for her. He could not say why, but he just stop listening when Hasmine mentioned her.

Gantes and Hasmine heard approaching hooves. They turned around and found a dozen fowls running towards them.

"Ate Hasmine!"

They immediately hugged Hasmine once they had reached her. Hasmine laughed by the sudden welcome. She got down on her knees once the children had settled down.

"Maayong buntag," Hasmine greeted.

The children greet her back. After that, questions started to pour from their mouths:

"How are you ate?"

"Is Manila beautiful? Are there a lot of trees to play at?"

"Where's my pasalubong ate?"

There was a roar of questions and Hasmine thought she could not answer them all. Beside her, Gantes was chuckling to himself. He guess that his chuckling was loud though, because the children stopped asking questions and look at him. Most of them coward into Hasmine's arms but there were some who just stared at the higante.

Gantes felt conscious all of the sudden.

"Who is he?" the youngest of the bunch asked. "Is he an ugly tikbalang from Manila?"

Hasmine could not help but laugh at the fowl's remark. Gantes folded his arms.

"I'm sorry," Hasmine said to Gantes. She then turned to the tikbalangs and said, "This is Gantes, my companion. He came from Manila and helped me travel. He is a higante."

"Higante? Like big man who smokes sugar?" another tikbalang asked.

"It's 'cigar,' not 'sugar' Jacinto. And no, you are talking about a kapre, although they are the same in height. But Gantes here is no smoker. And even if he does smoke, it will most likely not help him look more intimidating."

The children snickered at the not so amused look on Gantes face.

"Now kids, Gantes is still our visitor and we must treat him respectfully. Is that clear?"

"Yes ate Hasmine," the children answered in chorus.

"Now behave. Gantes and I need to go to the datu. Is that clear?"

"Opo!"

Hasmine got up and waved good bye at the children. Gantes could not help but wave back as well at the enthusiastic children.

"They seem nice," Gantes remarked once they were far from them.

"Oh, you don't know," Hasmine replied. "Those foals will look like angels at first. But trust me when I say that they are worse than any tiyanak that I had dealt with. Still, you can't help but love them."

"I noticed you're very close to them as well."

"Hmm, they're easier to talk to than most adults here."

They walked pass the center and on to a narrow path. The stalls soon disappeared, as well as the houses, as they reached an open iron gate. They walked in and found themselves on a large courtyard. Tikbalang soldiers were busy practicing their arnis, itak, and yo-yo, while others were running on an obstacle course with different terrains such as dirt, sand, and more extreme ones like burning coal and ice water.

They hurried down a path lined with lavenders, which lead straight to a large balete tree, with watch towers and a balcony on its leaves. There were also banners hanging on the left and the right. The left was colored blue and had the map of the country, while the right was red and had the mark of a horse's head; the symbol of the tribe.

Two guards greeted them at the door. They did not said a word and let them in, although they scoffed at Gantes. Hasmine rolled her eyes when he noticed the guards' reaction. Gantes was just placid.

The door leads them into a hallway with many pathways, but they walked straight towards a large door. They pushed it open and found themselves in the throne room.

The throne room, the very inside of the balete tree, had trees growing through it, acting as pillars to the high stone ceiling. There were ten tall windows at each side, which brought light into the room. At the center hang a chandelier with unlit candles. And the ground was soft grass that felt good on their feet.

At the end of the room sat the Great Stallion, Armanaz, sitting on a throne carved out of a tree stump and holding a staff on his left hand. He wore an outfit similar to the soldiers, with the same shoulder pads and armor around his torso. The only differences were the golden rings around his legs, a bahag wrapped around his waist and the visible tattoos covering his arms.

Sitting beside him was no other than the Lady Mare, Maharlika, draped in a simple purple robes and silver jewelry. Gantes had noticed immediately how she and Hasmine looked the same, almost identical. The same shade of brown, the same star pattern on their forehead, the curly mane, and even the shape of their heads are too similar to be just coincidence.

The two tikbalangs did not move from their thrones as though they were statues. Maharlika, however, had her hands preoccupied by a little colt sitting on her lap, snuggling for warmth against her chest.

Hasmine walked forward until she was in front of them. She gave the two a bow.

"Good morning Great Stallion and mother," she said.

Mother? So that explains why they look so alike, Gantes thought.

Maharlika smiled and beckoned Hasmine to her throne. Hasmine got up and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Welcome back my dear," Maharlika said. "It appears as though Manila was quite rough considering you have to go home wearing your sleep wear."

"Oh! This? No, my uniform got soaked while crossing the river.

"And Manila is great! It's no Bukidnon, but it's a nice investment to stay there, especially since not a lot of enkantos had immigrated into the city. We might even be the first of our kind to establish our tribe there."

Hasmine then turned to Armanaz.

"In fact, Great Stallion, I brought with me someone. He is a friend that I had met and he can provide you all of the information you want."

Armanaz turned to look at Gantes. When the higante noticed the leader was looking at him, he immediately got on one of his knee and bowed his head politely.

"Good morning," he meekly said.

"Get up," Armanaz replied. "Say your name and your tribe."

"My name is Gantes, son of Filipe III, datu of the Higante Tribe in Manila."

"Ohh, a royal born," Maharlika remarked.

"I had heard of things about your father and your tribe," Armanaz said. "Positive, to say the least. To say you are trustworthy of our time is an understatement. I hope you are unlike the  _previous_  visitors. Such nuisance."

"You don't have to fret, Señior," Gantes replied. "I brought a gift."

Hasmine's smile turned into a shock look. She looked at him and mouthed the words "gift?” Gantes gave her a playful smile, got on his knees, and opened his sack. He fished a parcel as large as his chest.

"This is for you Great Stallion," Gantes said. "Father insisted that I bring you something as a token of friendship."

Gantes handed the parcel to Armanaz. For a second, he was able to glance to his right. Hasmine was holding the sleeping foal in her hands and she had an indescribable look on her face. He also saw the same curious look on Maharlika, who was eyeing Armanaz's reaction.

Gantes let go of the package once he felt a hand taking it from him.

Armanaz looked at the parcel. It was covered in leather and bonded by rope. He unwrapped and opened the package. He pulled the gift out and held it in front of him.

It was a hand weaved vest, dark red with black and blue patterns stitched on to it. It was rough to the touch, especially when Armanaz rubbed his fingers against the fabric.

"The size is only a guess," Gantes said. "If it doesn't fit nor suit you, I can easily repair it."

Armanaz did not reply. He lifted his shoulder pads, much to their surprise. He placed it on his lap as he wore the vest.

"So dear, does it fit you?" Maharlika asked.

Armanaz placed his shoulder pads back. He breathed in, feeling the fabric brush against his fur. Maharlika starred at his partner. Gantes looked at Hasmine and saw that she was just as nervous to see whether or not he would reject the gift. And then, he spoke:

"It's perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Maayong buntag - Visayan for "good morning"


	5. Chapter 5

_Present year…_

 

Gantes groaned when he remembered Hasmine. Just thinking about her made him feel weary.

He felt a hand touch his shoulders. He turned around and saw a taller higante who looked like him, with the exception of having less hair and wrinkles. He also wore the same armor as Gantes, including a gold breastplate, gauntlets, a woven vest, and a bahag.

"Kuya, are you okay?" asked the higante.

Gantes looked at his younger brother, General Diego.

"You already know the answer," Gantes replied.

Bukidnon had changed for Gantes. The forest had become smaller in size thanks to the growing population of people. Still, there remains a decent amount of forest areas scattered here and there and surely many of the enkantos would not allow their homes to be ruined.

It was exactly five in the morning. Gantes and Diego were walking through the dense forest. Gantes was surprised that he still remembered how to navigate through the forest. Asides from them, they had brought with them seven of their best soldiers, willing to join them and face who-knows-what. 

Everyone was aware of the Gantes' case about the letters that were spamming him all day and night. What many did not know was who the sender really was. They just assume it was some obsess person or enkanto who wanted to get inside of his pants.

But Gantes knew it was far from that.

"Wasn't this once the Armanaz tribe's, you know, tribe?" Diego asked.

"Yes," Armanaz replied. "It was before they moved to Manila."

"Why not tell this to them, especially to Señior Armanaz. This is their home."

"I don't want my problem to be their problem. Whatever or whoever is doing this, I want Armanaz out of this. It's for the safety of his tribe and for the safety of his own ass."

The other higantes chuckled.

Gantes sighed. He would be chuckling as well if it was not from the stress he was feeling. He tried to distract his mind by looking at the trees, but the distant smell of flowers were bringing back memories and it made him feel more worried.

"Gantes!"

Gantes snapped back to reality. He looked in front of him. They were already at the cliff and he was so preoccupied, so much that he might had fallen to his death. 

The tribe was very different. Most of the trees had been cut down by the tikbalangs to serve as resources and many of the houses were torn down. The center had remained and Gantes could see the statues of the tikbalang, although all of them were decapitated. The balete tree that once served as the Armanaz's residence was also cut down and replaced with a stone tomb, but the building was destroyed and all was left was its ruined foundation.

"Someone was here," Diego said. "All the damages look too new."

"Datu! General!"

Gantes and Diego turned to their right and saw their soldiers pointing at something.

"Sir, I think we found our culprit," a soldier said.

"But how are we going to get down?" another asked. "The stairs are broken."

Gantes looked down and noticed that the cliff side was clear of debris and was grassy. He sucked in, carefully inched forward, curled into a fetal position, and rolled down the cliff. Diego gulped but followed his brother, tumbling behind him like a ball. Then the soldiers too rolled down the cliff.

Gantes felt dizzy when he hit the bottom. He pushed himself up, stretched his arms, and brushed the dirt off of his breastplate, vest, and bahag. He heard Diego coming to a halt next to him. He was laughing when he got up.

"Let's do that again!" Diego joked.

The other soldiers came, tumbling down, one after another. They got on their feet and approached Gantes.

"What now?" one of the soldiers asked.

"We spy for any anomaly," Gantes replied.

Then, they heard footsteps. They sneaked behind a row of trees. Gantes and Diego shared a tree, which was the closest to where they thought they heard the noise.

They peaked out from the trunk and saw what it was. It was a man, or at least, that's what they assumed. It wasn't too tall or too short. They could barely tell anything else from the figure aside from the fact that it wore a tattered fedora and cape and that it was not looking at their direction.

"What is he doing?" Gantes asked.

Diego pulled his binoculars and looked at the figure. He saw the figure turning around. It was indeed a man, albeit his face was deformed. The right half of his face was burnt and he was missing his right eye.

The man did not notice the higantes, or that was what Diego wanted to believe. He and Gantes immediately hide when they heard the man lifting his leg.

"Did he saw you," Gantes asked.

Diego shook his head.

Suddenly the man appeared behind them, floating in midair. Gantes and Diego turned around, but before they could react, the man gave them a grin with his rotten teeth, grabbed their heads, and head-butted them with one another.

 

Gantes slowly opened his eyes. His surrounding was blurry and he saw things in sideways. He felt fatigue and thirsty, but worst of all, he felt pain. It occurred to him that he was being dragged by the legs.

His vision finally came together and he saw the man from earlier, dragging him. It was hard to find the man intimidating when he was having a hard time dragging a higante twice his size, yet Gantes knew he had the upper hand since he could not doing anything.

Then he heard a grunt and he wasn't being pulled anymore. Instead, his leg twisted and the man threw him into a stone well. He fell into the dark well and he swore the impact gave him more bruises.

He grunted as he tried to stand up. The man laughed at his petty appearance.

"You can't get out higante," the man mocked. "You are stuck in there until you become useful."

"Who are you?" Gantes shouted. "And where is my brother?"

Suddenly, the man threw something into the well. Gantes, as weak as he was, picked up whatever the main threw into the well and gasped. It was Diego's bloody head, freshly decapitated. His nose and mouth was filled with blood and dirt and his eyes were gouged out. Gantes fell on his knees. As disgusted as he was, he pulled his brother's remain to his chest and quietly sobbed.

"My name is Simon!" the man shouted. "And that is what I did to your brother, as well as to your army."

"You animal!" Gantes shouted.

"You have the nerves, the  _nerves_ , to say that, when you yourself had done something just as evil 60 years ago. You killed my guro and you showed no mercy to my brothers. I deserve to do this, and you deserve to see it!"

"You deserve nothing! Get me out of here, now!"

Simon spit in Gantes eyes and gave him mocking laugh.

"And why would I do that? You are the perfect bait to get that tikbalang. You two seem very close and he's bound to find out. And when he does, I will make sure you two will burn together in hell."

Simon pulled the wells cover. It was a metal cover with a tiny hole with three bars at the center, which acts as a light source. He covered it on the well and chanted a binding spell.

"Try to get out now, higante!" Simon shouted.

Gantes roared and punched the cover. Over and over, punch after punch, yet it did not budge. He could not even land a scratch. Tired and defeated, he fell down on the mossy floor.

He expected a laugh or a comment from Simon, but the magician was gone.

Gantes laid on the ground. He tried plotting a possible escape route. Then he realized; he had no weapon on him. Simon had stripped him down to his bahag and vest.

He looked around the dark well and tried to imagine a plan. He thought of digging his way, yet everything was concrete, except for a tiny dent on the side (and even then, he could not break it without his tools and he could not dig with his hands, not to mention that the hole would be very tiny.)

Then he thought of using Morse with the dwendes. But then he knew no one in Bukidnon, so he scratched the idea.

He tried turning human, yet he was so exhausted to use his glamor.

In the end, he just sat in his prison, occasionally screaming for help (he stopped the fourth time since his voice had become hoarse). He also tried punching the covers, but his attempts were futile.

He looked at the severed head of his brother. It was there, at the moment on loneliness, did he felt a sense of regret and foolishness. Seeing the head made him gag in guilt and he wanted to bury his brother the moment he got out.

He felt like a fool to believe that Hasmine was alive. He admitted to himself that he almost believed that she was alive. But he argued to himself that he traveled to Bukidnon for more than just Hasmine. He wanted the letters to stop; he wanted to see what was going on without endangering the tikbalang tribe.

He then remembered Armanaz. He thought that maybe Maliksi had already told his father and now he was coming to rescue him. It was a sweet thought. But then he remembered that he was being used as bait and he started feeling afraid.

Gantes leaned his head against the concrete, closed his eyes, and started daydreaming again.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Armanaz groaned the second he looked at his watch. It was already past five in the morning. He unwittingly wasted his time studying Gantes’ letter that he forgot that he still had to attend to a meeting.

Before he left the lumber, he took Hasmine’s diary, as well as some of the letters. He was tempted to call Gantes, but he knew the higante won’t answer it or won’t be able to. He was anxious by Gantes’ absence. All he wanted was to see him again.

When he got back to the Tower, he found Pico, in the form of a human, waiting for him by the door.

“Great Stallion!” Pico said. “Where have you been?”

Armanaz replied by showing him the sack of letters. He threw it at Pico, who caught and took hold of it.

“Put those letters in my bedroom,” Armanaz ordered. “I need to talk to General Kagirim and Elder Narra now.”

“They are in your office, Señior,” Pico replied. “They have been waiting for you.”

Armanaz mumbled something incoherent. Pico was about to ask why he looked so haggard or where he got the sack, but in a blink of an eye, he was alone.

 

Gantes was not the only thing Armanaz was worrying about. His leg was getting worse. He was having a harder time walking, let alone standing. He swallowed the pain. He did not want to appear like he was in the losing side of things. He fixed his mane and bahag on the way to his office. But while he was adjusting his vest, he stopped. Only now did it came to his mind that he was wearing the vest Gantes gifted him. Somehow, he felt reassured, that Gantes was safe.

It was a false sense of security, but security nonetheless.

He opened his office door and was greeted with eyes on him. Relika was sitting on a tree branch and was at the verge of almost dozing off. She immediately stood up on the branch and fixed her appearance.

To Relika’s right was General Kagirim. At a quick glance, he looked almost identical to Armanaz, except for the large scar that ran across his forehead to his cheek. He wore the same clothes as Armanaz, with the exception of wearing a belt with holsters and a pair of gauntlets.

Meanwhile, at Relika’s left was Elder Narra. She was shorter that Kagirim, but her stoic demeanor was just as intimidating, if not more intimidating that the general. She wore a long woven robe that covered her from her neck to her ankles.

“Good morning, cousin,” Kagirim greeted. “Where have you been?’

“I attended to some business,” Armanaz replied, to which Kagirim scoffed.

“I hope you don’t mind if we stay here instead of choosing to stay in the garden, Armanaz,” Narra said. “Staying in the garden for more than thirty minutes is not as comfortable as you may think.”

“It’s no problem,” Armanaz replied. He had to interrupt her before she starts preaching about her allergies. “Relika, have you-

“-They already know,” Relika interjected. “Although, while you were gone, something important had happened and you need to know about it.”

The door opened once more. Maliksi and Iglap ran into the office. Both of them looked very tired and weary, especially Maliksi, whose hair wasn’t properly tied and his jacket hanging awkwardly on his shoulder. Iglap, on the other hand, was not looking great either. His clothes were ruffled and his hair was sticking out.

“Where have you two been?” Armanaz asked.

“Sorry, but some of us aren’t in the mood,” Iglap bitterly commented.

Maliksi shrugged his shoulders.

Armanaz huffed yet chose not to argue. Instead, he turned his attention back to Relika and asked, “Now what did you see, Relika?”

Relika hesitated for a second. She looked at Narra, who could sense the doubt in her. The tikbalang gave her a reassuring nod, pushing her to talk. Relika breathed in deep, turned to look at Senior Armanaz and answered him:

“In Bukidnon were dead bodies of higantes.”

Color drained from Armanaz’s face. It was like his body was hit by water and his knees suddenly gave in. He almost lost his balance if it weren’t for Maliksi, who immediately transformed into a tikbalang and caught him in time.

“Thank you Maliksi,” Armanaz whispered. “I’m fine now.”

“Your leg is still not okay?” Maliksi asked.

“I said I’m fine,” Armanaz replied more firmly. Maliksi slowly let his father go as the Stallion regained control of his body.

Relika was even more reluctant to continue, but Armanaz looked at her as though he was telling her to continue. Half-hearted, she added:

“The spirits had followed the magician. He left right about now. He had decapitated all of the higantes except for one. The spirits claimed it was the datu.”

Everyone’s eyes left from Relika and were now at Armanaz. They waited for a response from the datu, but all he let out was a soft huff (whether from relief or worry was beyond them.)

“Was there anything else? Do they know who the perpetrator was?” Armanaz asked.

“The magician said his name is Simon. The souls also said that he was the man that they saw had gone there before but had mysteriously disappeared. And by the way he described his guro and, quote on quote brothers, he was apparently part of the Bukidnon massacre.”

“Impossible!” Kagirim interrupted. “We had found all of the hunters. We had killed them.”

“I and the souls heard it, General,” Relika replied. “Maybe he had survived and ran away, or maybe he had a revival potion. These magician types are very tricky.”

“I believe he survived,” Narra said. “If memory serves me right, I saw a scrawny fella escaping during the massacre. While I was evacuating the children, this man ran pass us. We thought he was going to kill us, but he apparently left all his weapons and was only looking for a route of escape. He also used this blinding dust when he noticed us and when the dust settled he was gone.”

“And now he is back, and he is not merciful,” Relika commented.

The three went on, debating the credibility of Simon and his magic, while Armanaz could feel his nerves tingling.

“Enough!” he said. In an instance, everyone froze and stared at him. “We are wasting time. Simon might be doing Skyworld-knows-what on Gantes and I don’t want to have another genocide tainting our tribe’s name and ground. We need to stop this Simon.”

“But Armanaz,” Kagirim said. “You saw how powerful he is. He was able to overpower Gantes’ best men. Isn’t it right if we first plan this?”

“Well, we better plan faster. Simon wants to bait us with Gantes, so then well be it.”

“What do you mean?” Kagirim asked.

“Simon wants us to fight him in Bukidnon. He knows the place, he knows where to hide and when to attack. If we can subdue him in Bukidnon, then good, better even. But if we fail to do so, plan B will be baiting him to Manila.”

“Manila? Dad, where are we going to fight him?” Iglap asked. “We can’t have a bloody battle on the streets.”

Armanaz gave him a sly smile and replied, “You know, we have a schedule ball game at the Polo Club this Saturday. Maybe we can move things earlier.”

“How many troops are we going to bring to Bukidnon?” Kagirim asked.

“We’ll bring about a hundred. By that number it will be easy to overpower Simon.”

“Very well then, I will ask my men and we’ll be on our way.”

“No! Kagirim, I want you to here in Manila. In the events that we did not captured Simon, you are to lead the battle. Instead, I want you to talk to the higantes asked them to get ready. You and Iglap are tasked to the do that.”

“You will get yourself killed, Armanaz!”

“Both parties need a leader and I trust you to lead here in Manila.” Armanaz then turned to Elder Narra and said, “Elder Narra, I need you to keep watch on every tikbalang. If by any chance the problem moves to Manila, evacuate everyone to the basement exit as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” was Narra’s short reply.

“Relika,” Armanaz continued. “I want you to keep watch. Once we arrive in Bukidnon, I want you to call the spirits and keep an eye on us.”

Relika simply nodded.

“And as for you two,” Armanaz said while looking at both Iglap and Maliksi. “Iglap I want you to go with Kagirim to Jingco Lumber. Talk to anyone there and tell them what happened to Gantes. I have a feeling that he kept this a secret.”

Iglap did not reply. Maliksi gulped.

“Maliksi, you will be messenger. I want you to stay with Relika and keep everyone updated, especially Kagirim and Elder Narra.”

“Sure dad,” Maliksi mumbled.

“Now come on,” Armanaz said. “Time is running out.”

 

Narra opened Armanaz’s bedroom door. The Great Stallion was hunched over his bed, putting on his leg braces. He could hear his pained grunt as the metal tightened around his aching muscles. Narra walked in quietly, closing the door behind her and sitting on the end of Armanaz’s bed.

“You don’t want Kagirim to see you and Gantes together, do you?” Narra asked.

Armanaz raised his head, but he did not dare look at Narra. He answered, “I just want to save him.”

“You are willing to sacrifice an army of a hundred just to save one life.”

“It’s not only that. I don’t want to see another person that I love so much perish like this. I already lost Maharlika, I almost lost Maliksi, and now I can’t afford to lose Gantes.”

Narra let out a sad chuckle and said, “Such love, it makes for such a beautiful tragedy.”

Narra fished her hand into her pocket and pull a small bag. He placed it in Armanaz hand, stood up, and left. It was only when she was gone did Armanaz bothered to open the bag. Three healing potions in tiny bottles were inside the bag. He closed it and hid it inside a compartment of his belt.

Armanaz walked out of his bedroom. He locked his bedroom and walked down the long hallway. But something caught his ears. He walked past the elevator and instead hid behind a wall. He heard Maliksi talking, or better yet, arguing with Iglap.

“Why didn’t you tell dad?” Iglap asked angrily.

“I can’t break that promise with Gantes,” Maliksi replied. “I know I already broke it by telling Alex and, well, you. But look, dad already knows, so there is no need to tell him.”

“What do I know?”

Iglap and Maliksi turned to see who the new voice was. They gasped when they saw a furious Armanaz, hands crossed to his chest and eyes black as night. The two tikbalangs trembled, fear coursing through their bodies.

“It’s a secret between me and Gantes,” Maliksi blurted. “But it’s not important anymore!”

“Gantes is not here, so you can tell me. So Maliksi, tell me.” Armanaz ordered.

“Dad… I knew Gantes was leaving town. He told me last night when I was on the way home. He told me that he wanted me to keep it a secret because he does not want you involve. He said it was his problem.”

“His problem?  Why didn’t you told me sooner, Maliksi!?”

“I don’t know!”

“You told Iglap and Trese, but not me.”

Maliksi went silent. He looked at Iglap, who was trying not to look back. Armanaz pinched his snout.

“Iglap,” Armanaz said. “Go to Kagirim now and get ready. Go!”

Iglap left. Maliksi was afraid once more, especially now since he was alone with his dad, meaning more of the anger would go to him. But he was surprised when Armanaz did not scold him and instead kneeled down to his height and said:

“Maliksi, if something like this were to happen, please tell me,” Armanaz said. “I need you to be more honest. But this is the least of our worries now. I have another task in hand for you. I want you to go to Trese and ask for their help. You already dragged Alexandra in this, so you might as well fall through. I also want you to protect her. The Trese had been a part of the massacre before and I don’t want anything happening to them again.”

Maliksi nodded.

“That’s my son.”

Son, Maliksi repeated in his mind. It was a long time since his father used that word in a positive manner towards him.

Armanaz stood up and gave Maliksi a kissed on his forehead.

“Be brave,” Armanaz said.

And in a flash, he disappeared.

“Be brave,” Maliksi echoed. “Be brave.”


	7. Chapter 7

_A month ago…_

It felt so alienating to visit a town that was once lively but had devolved into a ghost town. The feeling of expectancy was with Simon. He felt like he was being watched by someone while he strolled through the remains of a burnt down palace. All that remained was its foundation, and even that was falling apart.

Simon remembered when he first saw this land, how his guro taught him to haunt tikbalangs. As a child he was terrified by the creatures of the night, but his fear soon turned to morbid curiosity when he first met the veteran Marcello.

He was a kid of the street and when he laid his eyes on him, he knew he found his new father.

Simon was surprised that a lot of the weapons his _brothers_ had used remained, albeit rusted from being exposed to the ever changing weather. Marcello, his guro, always told them to care for their weapon as much as they care for their lives. Simon was sure his guro would be pissed to see all of it rotting away.

Simon walked pass what was supposed to be the throne room and went down into one of the halls. Not all parts of the palace were destroyed, but because it was left unkempt for so long, the palace had weathered away. Simon covered his nose. As much as he was used to the smell of filth, the strong scent of the rotting balete and the stench of the dead encapsulated within the maze-like structure of the palace was too much for him to handle.

The smell died slightly down when he entered a bedroom, or that is what he thinks. At the center of the room was a pile of banig on rotting leaves. A funny detail Simon noticed was the abundance of large drawers in the room .There was a drawer near the bed, behind the door, and two more next to what seemed to be a vanity. Simon opened all of them, one by one, but was disappointed.

Every drawer was empty. He expected to find some sort of clue on how to bait the tribe to go back to Bukidnon. He slammed the last drawer back in, leaving a hefty crack on the furniture. This was his third visit back to the place and yet he could devise the perfect way on how he can get Armanaz to visit their old tribe without being so suspicious.

He was feeling desperate. He looked at himself in the mirror on top of the vanity. Even from the dust and filth, he can see his expression. He was growing old, very old. Black bags were forming under his eyes and his dress shirt was now torn and stained.

He lived hiding, practicing the arts of his guro with whatever written works he had left for him. He realized that he lived in a kubo with no clean water nor electricity, relying on anting-anting and stealing food to survive, and that his life style had made him look so broken like the palace he was in. The reflection made him angry. He felt so angry.

He punched the mirror.

He let out a loud scream when the shards punctured his skin. He pulled his blood hand away and gasped. There was a hole behind the mirror, and in that hole was a box. It was made out of wood and was twice the size of his torso. There was also padlock on its lid.

“Simon, you smart motherfucker,” he mumbled to himself.

With shaking hands, he pulled out the large box. The shards were digging in to his skin so he placed the box down on the vanity and sat on the bed. He carefully pulled the shards out, one by one, while he tried to keep himself from screaming again.

Simon pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped it around his bleeding hand. It was not the best or cleanest option, but he thought that he could simply heal himself when he gets home. He was more invested him seeing what was in the box.

With a zap of a finger, he unlocked the padlock on the box and lifted the cover. He smiled deviously. Inside were papers, some plain while others had words on it. He read what was on them and realized they were letters were from other tikbalang. He then found who owns the letters:

_Hasmine_

Simon was intrigued. He read every letter and it slowly drew him the picture of who the tikbalang was. He was having flashbacks of when she saw her on battle. She was beautiful, almost identical to the Lady Mare, and he and his brothers and guro paraded her severed head back to the tribe. And here he was, reading who she was.

She was an adventurer, Simon concluded, as he went through rough sketches of maps as well as written letters from different enkantos and even humans from Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao.

He organized them chronologically, and what he found was that the last mission was in Manila. She read logs of her conversations between some enkantos, informing her that it was safe to go to Manila.

He also found journals, and indeed, the latest venture was to Manila. She recorded everyone she met, detailing every nook and cranny of Manila, from where the richest of the rich sleep and the poorest squat.

And then another individual caught his attention. He remembered him when they first took step into the tribe. He thought he was a deformed tikbalang because of how he dressed and yet his face was square and almost ape-like. He did not remember his name during that time, but what he did remembered was when he mercilessly decapitated his guro when he showed them the head of Hasmine. Like lightning, the higante sliced killed the one he called father, and it was that death that had fueled him to find where the tikbalangs, and even the higante, reside.

And now the answer was in his hand. Although he could not tell whether or not the tikbalangs were in Manila, he can only guess that the higante still resided there in what apparently seems to be a tribe fronted as a lumber place. If he couldn’t bait the tikbalangs with anything, he might as well try baiting them with someone.

 

Simon took the box with him home. When he got back to his kubo, he immediately went at back and cleaned his bloody hand. The bleeding had stopped on the way to his home, but it was swelling. He was lucky that it was his left hand. He washed it off with the flowing water near the river that had turned into somewhat of a dump. This was the kind of water he lives with, but he knew he couldn’t ask for anything else especially since he was blacklisted by nearest town.

Simon went inside and wrapped his wounded hand with a cleaner cloth. He could take care of it later. Right now, he sat on his rattan table. He pulled out a plain piece of paper, an envelope and old pen. I can do this, I can copy her, Simon thought

“Dear… Gantes…”


	8. Chapter 8

For Hank, time was worth more than any gold on the Earth. He lived by the principle of “the early bird catches the worm” and had believed in the motto like the gospel ever since he became the bartender of the Trese family. He would be up at five, preparing the Diabolical. While the place was a bar at night, Alex still kept it up as a café during the morning. Hank knew that the best customers came at around 8, sometimes even around 7, in the morning.

Today, however, was the first time he had a customer at 6 in the morning.

Hank was cleaning the windows outside when he heard the familiar screech from a motorcycle. He was surprised Maliksi was out and about so early. Normally, he would visit the Diabolical at 9 since that was the normal time Alexandra would have woken up.

“Good morning Maliksi,” Hank greeted.

Maliksi got off of his motorcycle. Hank immediately noticed the uneasy look on the tikbalang’s face. He knew that if Maliksi did not flashed his toothpaste commercial-worthy smile at him (or at anyone else), something was wrong.

“Is Alex there?” Maliksi asked.

“She is still asleep, little prince,” Hank replied. “Sit down inside. I will serve you something to drink.”

“I just want some water.”

Water, Hank thought. He was now definite that Maliksi had serious business with Alex.

Maliksi sat on one of the barstool. He looked down at his hands and was surprised that his hands and arm were growing fur. He was transforming back to a tikbalang. Maliksi breathed in and his hands instantly transformed back to its human appearance. The glamour was starting to fault from his stress.

“What’s the problem today, Maliksi?” Hank asked while giving him his water.

In a swift move, Maliksi drank the water in one gulp. He wiped his mouth and replied, “Some magician is trying to fight dad.”

“Well, last time I heard your father was able to defeat three giants in one night. What’s so worrying about this magician?”

“The magician is powerful from what I heard. He was part of the Bukidnon Massacre back in 197… knows whatever. Anyway, this dude is back and he just killed 8 of Gantes’ soldiers.”

“Gantes? How were the higantes involved?”

“Datu Gantes was there during the massacre. It’s a bit of a long story, but he was sort of like the ambassador of Manila kind of, or at least that’s how dad puts it. That was when our tribe was centered in Bukidnon. He helped dad fight off those pesky hunters. I don’t know how Gantes found out about this magician, but whatever that magician did, Gantes took the bait and he is now trapped in Bukidnon.”

Both men heard a door opening, followed by the sounds of feet walking down the stairs from behind the kitchen. They looked at who was climbing down and found Alex. Maliksi stood up and walked up to greet her. Her eyes were still having a hard time to stay open, as evidence by her constant blinking and rubbing.

“Good morning Hank and… Maliksi?” she greeted. She was somewhat surprised by the tikbalang’s early visit. “You’re abnormally early.”

“Alex,” Maliksi said. “I need to talk to you.”

“Is this related to Datu Gantes from last night?”

“Well, there is that, but there’s more to it. Datu Gantes was tricked.”

“Tricked by whom?”

“By this magician guy who was apparently part of the Bukidnon Massacre.”

If the fact that Maliksi was visiting her so early did not wake her up, the news about the magician had brought Alex to full awareness. She did not know how to respond to Maliksi, especially since he sounded very sincere and she knew that there was no way Maliksi would joke about something like this. All she could utter was a short: “Ah?”

“A magician, who was part of the Bukidnon massacre, wants to kill us,” Maliksi slow said, emphasizing every pause.

“Yes, I heard you the first time, Maliksi,” Alex replied. “But how are you so sure about this?”

“Relika visited us this morning. She told us that Gantes and his boys are in Bukidnon. What’s worse is that Gantes’ boys are dead and now he is being held hostage. Dad thought of going there to save him and maybe try to kill the magician dude, and if he _somehow_ did not kill the magician, he will lead him on to Manila and we’ll take them down.”

Alex was still very skeptical. Her grandfather had always told her the tale of their triumphant victory of being able to stop all of the hunters. Either way, part of the massacre or not, she knew things were far from good.

“Where is your father now?” Alex asked.

“He is on his way to Bukidnon,” Maliksi replied. “Last time he called, he was already in Visayas.”

“This is bad.”

“I know. This magician is a psycho.”

“No. I mean, if it’s true that this magician was part of the Bukidnon massacre that means he was able to find out what techniques your father uses in fighting. It is not far that he did his research. If he was able to overpower the higantes, what else could he do?”

Alex looked at Maliksi’s face. Maliksi was looking to his left, trying to avoid her gaze. Alex frowned and took his hands. She squeezed it tightly, hoping it would calm him down.

“What are you going to do now?” Alex asked. Her voice was soft in volume and comforting to Maliksi’s ears.

Maliksi finally looked at her, sighed, and replied, “Dad told me to keep watch of you. He said your grandfather was part of the massacre and it was not far from possible that he might find you out.”

“…Come with me.”

“What?”

“I need to show you something, Maliksi.”

Maliksi turned around and looked at Hank. Hank simply nodded at him.

 

Maliksi had already been to the second floor many times, but his visits were always limited to the tiny living room, the Kambal and Alex’s bedroom, and the occasional bathroom trips. But what he never knew was what was behind the door beyond all of the bedrooms.

Alex unlocked the rusty doorknob with a key that appeared to be just as in the same condition as its lock. She pushed the door open and led Maliksi in. Maliksi was awed by the large study in front of him. There was a large bookshelf to his right and near the old, Spanish window was a wooden table. But what caught his attention the most were the many weapons, chest, fossils, and photographs that were displayed near and on the left wall. He could recognize few of the relics from the different tribes that he had visited before. There were also black and white photographs of Alex’s grandfather with different enkantos, as well as family portraits, some of which were so old that the faces were indistinguishable.

“This is only one-fourth of lolo’s research,” Alex said.

“One fourth?” Maliksi asked in disbelief.

Alex nodded and continued, “Lolo has spared some of his research and kept it here for emergencies. Personally, I do not go in here that often anymore, but his office has proven to be a good source of information. Besides, it’s quiet.”

Maliksi sat on one of the chairs near the desk. He then asked, “Do you have a weapon here that could stop the magician?”

Alex shook her head. “Based on what you said, it looks like the higantes are ruled out as a potential advantage to the magician.”

Maliksi lifted a brow. “What do you mean by ‘potential advantage?”

“Lolo had seen the hunters fight before, and he had told us how their magic were strong against tikbalangs but weak against higantes.”

Alex pulled out a black notebook from the bookshelf. She slowly flipped through the pages until she had founded what she was looking for.

“This is lolo’s entry about the massacre and about Gantes:

**_“I thought it was only me and Mr. Fernandez who was visiting Bukidnon, but I was surprised that they were entertaining another guest. His name was Gantes, from the higante tribe. We soon realized that there were actually many tikbalangs who went to visit Manila._ **

**_“But while he was gentle giant, there was no doubt that his fury can take the best of him. Interestingly, the hunters’ anting-anting and weapons weren’t too effective against him. From what we have seen, Gantes was able to kill more hunters than any of us, more than the Great Stallion himself._ **

**_“I was able to study him further, specifically the war hammer that he had brought with him (which he said he could turn big or small, a detail that in itself was very useful) and his body; why he was so resilient against the hunters. I have come to a conclusion that, like rubber is to electricity, higantes are resistant to magic. However, they could still react to very strong amount of it, which was why they could use glamour and, with the right strength, could even critically wound them.”_ **

“Oh shit,” Maliksi mumbled.

“You said that the magician was able to murder the other higantes. If he has this sort of strength against them, how much stronger would he be compared to your father.”

Maliksi got up from his chair and said, “I need to chase after dad. I can’t let him get killed by this man.”

“No!” Alex grabbed Maliksi’s wrist before the tikbalang could race off. “It is too risky for you and the others to chase after Señior. What you need to do is to call him off.”

“I don’t think dad could do that. Gantes is in Bukidnon and dad won’t allow to leave him there.”

“Then we need to think of something that can counter the magician.”

“But what?”

Alex paused. She looked at Maliksi who was half-ready to sprint after his father. Her grip around his wrist tightened as she tried to piece a solution into her mind. The ticking sound from the still working wall clock inside the office now sounded like gunshots for their ears and the aroma of old books was morphing into the stench of blood.

Time was running out.


End file.
